


so, shiver.

by fiveamradio



Category: Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Aftercare, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Incest, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveamradio/pseuds/fiveamradio
Summary: "Did he do it like this?" Gen asks, voice sultry, purring like a satisfied cat, his long fingers tracing lazy circles on the heat between Senku's thighs.
Relationships: Asagiri Gen/Ishigami Senkuu, Ishigami Byakuya/Ishigami Senkuu
Comments: 3
Kudos: 152





	so, shiver.

**Author's Note:**

> MIND THE TAGS.

"Did he do it like this?" Gen asks, voice sultry, purring like a satisfied cat, his long fingers tracing lazy circles on the heat between Senku's thighs. 

Senku turns his head away, shuts his eyes - but his hands are grasping at Gen's shoulders and it's all he can do to stay upright, and he's not pushing him away, and he doesn't know why, can't even begin to create some sort of logical thought process in regards to this situation. His mind is blank, his perception hazy; with his eyes closed, he doesn't have to look at Gen's face, at his leer of a smile, at the way he licks his lips, but it also means his imagination wanders, and it's hard to ground himself in facts. He knows he's basically stripped bare, sitting atop the empty desk of his laboratory, the glass cold under his thighs. He knows Gen is standing between the open-angle of his legs, fully clothed still and amazingly satisfied, and he can feel the chill air whispering through the room and he can feel fingertips pressing against his clit, and all of those are  _ facts _ , those he can feel with his senses and his body, but not a single inch of that knowledge helps him with handling it any better. 

"Shut up," Senku says, and the words come out in a gasp, a shudder that sounds more like a plea and less like an order. "Don't talk about him."

Gen hums, and moves - smoothly, he's stepped even closer to Senku, and his fingers are pushing harder, sliding up as if he wants to savor the feeling of the wetness on his skin. It drives Senku's voice up in an inarticulate moan, needy and shattered, and with his other hand Gen takes hold of his chin, forces his head up; with the advantage of height, Senku needs to look up at him, and his eyes slide open before he can think about keeping them shut, and the way Gen is staring at him makes him arch his back, tighten his hold around his neck in helpless reaction. 

"Why not, Senku-chan?" Gen drawls, caresses Senku's lower lip in a slow drag of sensation with his thumb. Senku can't help but notice how smooth Gen's skin is, how soft - there's no mark of work, no telling to physical effort. Under his clothes, his body is beautiful, all sinuous curves and unmarred porcelain. He looks like a demon, like a devil, something that came straight out of the morning mist that makes up his name with the sole goal of turning Senku's mind to fog. 

Asagiri Gen.  _ Morning mist _ . 

Tricky, shrewd. Impossible to trust. Sly. Vicious. 

He touches the tip of his finger to Senku's entrance, and Senku  _ shivers _ . 

"Why don't you want to talk about him?" Gen inquires again, and he sounds soothing, sounds comforting - his touch is gentle and easy to relax into, his voice has turned from sultry to a low, soft whisper, and Senku's eyelids flutter closed, his legs spread open the tiniest bit more. "Don't you miss him, baby? Don't you think about him when you're all alone late at night? You can talk to me about him. I'll listen. I'll take care of you."

"Gen -" Senku starts, stops when a finger slowly breaches his entrance and drives his breath up on a high, whined note. He can't think, he can't answer, he doesn't know what to do. He can feel his legs tighten around Gen's hips, can feel his lips parting open in mindless whimpers, but there's not a single clear thought in his head as to what he's doing - and he finds it bothers him less than he expected. There's a thrill in being handled like this, in being shamelessly exposed, in the body reactions he can't hope to control, in the way Gen plays him like an instrument, with skilled touches and whispered songs in his ear. 

"Hmm. That's not quite right, is it, Senku-chan?" Gen twists his finger inside, the tip delving slightly deeper, and Senku  _ keens _ , blushes hard when Gen laughs. "So sensitive. You react to every little thing. I've barely even touched you. Have you never been touched like this before?"

Senku shakes his head hard, lowers his face so he won't have to be faced with Gen's awful smirk. 

"I find that hard to believe," Gen purrs. "With a boy as pretty as you." 

Something about that makes Senku moan loudly, cling desperately to Gen and uselessly buck his hips up into his touch; he's been called many things throughout his life,  _ smart, genius, insufferable, arrogant  _ \- but never  _ pretty,  _ never by anyone, no one except for -

Senku shakes his head again, violently shoves the thoughts away. He can't think about this, he can't, he hasn't - he's not allowed - 

"Never," he gasps out. "No one. Gen, I -"

"No, Senku-chan," Gen tuts, sounding almost disappointed at him, and it makes Senku's heart go heavy on his chest - he doesn't want to be disappointing, he doesn't want to be bad, he wants Gen to be  _ proud _ \- "Again, that's not right, is it?"

Senku takes a deep breath, another. His heart is pounding in his chest, his mind is fuzzy. Gen keeps his finger where it is, shifts it just a little, just enough to press the reminder back, to remind Senku of where they are, of what they're doing, and Senku whispers, " _ Daddy _ ," and Gen  _ smiles _ . 

"There it is," he drawls, satisfied,  _ pleased _ . "Such a good boy. So pretty. Wanna tell me about it now, beautiful? About all the things your daddy did to you?"

Senku is shaking now, his hips twitching - Gen fits a hand to his thigh, pushes it so his legs are wider open, so he can come closer and drive his finger in deeper Senku's entrance, up until his first knuckle; and it's not much, not much at all, but it's enough for Senku's untouched, virgin body. He's gasping where his face is buried in the curve where Gen's neck meets his shoulder, he might be tearing up, and he can  _ feel  _ himself getting wetter, his body opening up even more easily for Gen's slow touch. 

"He never -" Senku tries, his voice breaks, he has to lick his lips and try again, "He never did anything, he  _ wouldn't _ , he never laid a hand on me -"

"Aw, that's such a pity," Gen says. He makes Senku lift his face again, stares right into his eyes when he continues, "I bet you wished desperately that he would, didn't you?"

Senku's mind is spinning, his vision is hazy; he can't think, he can't make sense of anything; somewhere in the dark corner of his brain, in the soft place at the back of his skull where he hides all the things he doesn't want but can't figure out how to get rid of, memories come rushing in, and for the first time in thousands of years he  _ remembers _ , allows himself to remember: how he touched himself at night, whispering for  _ daddy _ , begging  _ please _ , pressing his moans to his pillow, wanting for Byakuya to touch him, saying he'd do anything,  _ anything -  _ "I - I didn't -"

"How often did you think about it?" Gen presses on, his finger curls, dives further, and if his words are relentless, his hand remains gentle, lazy but insistent, and it keeps a constant awareness to Senku's body, a reminder of where he's being touched, what he's being coaxed into doing. "Every other week? Every day? Every time he put his arm around your shoulders, every time he hugged you, every time he patted your head and told you how proud he was of his little genius?"

Senku is melting into pure heat against Gen's body; he arches up, chokes on his breath, and he can feel his eyes filling with tears as his mouth parts on helpless whimpers. Gen touches his lips to Senku's ear, and whispers, "Every time daddy said you were pretty?" 

Senku whimpers, " _ Daddy _ , please -"

"I bet he wanted to touch you too," Gen continues, tone a wispy slurred whisper that makes Senku's toes curl, makes his head foggy, as if Gen is threading his fingers through the very fabric of his existence. "Bet he wanted to have your beautiful legs spread open for him. He'd be so gentle to you. Prepare you so nicely, open you up to take his cock. He'd praise you all the time, tell you how beautiful you are, how smart, how good you are for him, how much he loves you -"

Senku is coming before he can realize what's happening. 

It hits him so hard it nearly hurts - he's shaking, wailing, his nails digging into Gen's shoulders, and it's painful, pure heat burning on the bottom of his spine, throughout his entire body. When it's over, he can't bring himself to move away, can't bring himself to get back and get dressed and clean the mess between his thighs; he keeps clinging to Gen, and he feels his cheeks wet with tears that started welling up in his eyes. 

Gen pets his hair, and Senku breaks down. 

"I miss him so much," he sobs, and his heart is shattering inside his ribcage, shards piercing through his lungs. "All the time, I just want him back, why is he gone, I miss him, I miss daddy -"

He allows himself to cry, to unmake himself into sobs for his father, and Gen caresses his hair and shushes him, and he feels more relaxed than he's felt in thousands of years. 


End file.
